The Hogwarts Romance
by nederick
Summary: A love cycle containing the entire cast of characters. From Blast-Ended Skrewts to Mungungus Fletcher, from Love to Betrayal, from Passion to Solace...an epic that you will never forget.
1. Default Chapter

The Hogwarts Romance

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my genius.

1.

An alkaline silence swathed the Slytherin common room. Everyone was asleep, the midnight

creatures tickled the surrounding land, and their nocturnal rummaging could be heard from the

dormitory.

Goyle was waiting. He had been waiting now for two hours. Sleep was far away from Love's

pupil.

He had gelled his hair so that it made a crown on his head, pointing upwards. It seemed to

elongate his face slightly. His eyes were turned downwards, almost modestly. The darkness

around him hid his insecurities.

Where is he? Thought Goyle. Where is he? The only one who knows me for who I am? Who

calls me Greg?

The door yawned open. Light flooded in around the figure of a scrawny boy. The door closed

almost immediately.

"You came," the rough sound of Goyle's voice broke the magic silence. He regretted it.

The presence didn't answer. Goyle though he saw him nod, but the night was thick.

Meanwhile, in the dorm, Crabbe stirred. The nightmares haunted him, as they always did when

Goyle wasn't near.

He woke. There was no effeminate warmth emanating from the next bed. There was no deep

sound of sleep. There was only the whimpering of Malfoy opposite.

He rose hesitantly. His joints creaking, the glutinous sleep in his eyes begging him to lie down

again. But he could not, would not, sleep without Goyle. He would not suffer the nightmares.

He began to descend the steps. Suddenly, he heard a noise of footsteps, scuffling, and a human

sound – wordless. Goyle? He thought.

At first, Crabbe had assumed that his loved one had gone to get a snack as usual but now, there

was something else...something to fear.

He quickly skipped the last few steps and, with a nervous jerk of the arm, the common room lit

up.

"Goyle!" He cried, his voice wrought with emotion. "Harry!"


	2. 2

The Hogwarts Romance

2.

Crabbe ran. He didn't want to see their flushed faces, their inner-smiles. His heart had been torn

from his chest with one destructive image. His life...rags.

He stumbled out, away from the castle. The air was fresh on his skin. The cold soothed him, but

not enough to dull the pain. The pain that was the poison of the memory. He knew that he would

have to live with this memory – this tainted memory...

He needed to go...somewhere, anywhere, only far away from the traitors. From Goyle, the only

man he had ever loved...they had even planned their future together! But that was over now. A

different world.

Harry Potter. The hate bubbled inside. How could they? How could he? How could they both?

Tears stained his cheeks red, as the winter air stung his skin. His pyjamas were feeble protection

from the cumulous wind.

He had loved him! Yes, love was the ingredient of the poison...it is what made his stomach twist

and wrench inside him. There was no return. There would be no love.

He stopped walking. He was near the forest now, Hagrid's hut a few hundred yards behind him.

Why stop walking now? Why not walk into the darkness, let his life become food for the

creatures. Anything to stop the pain.

He realised then, why he had stopped walking...it was the rustling he heard from the right. Not

from the forest, but from the small hutch shrouded in pumpkins. Gingerly, Crabbe walked over

towards the noise.

"Hello?" His voice was weak with crying, he felt ashamed of himself slightly...what if it was

Malfoy? He would live to regret the day he showed weakness in front of the Malfoys.

No, it was no person. A small slug-like creature emerged from the pumpkin patch. A blast-

ended skrewt. In the moonlight, its creamy skin shone like diamonds. Its weaponry like passion-

fire to Crabbe's swollen eyes.

He remembered the name Hagrid gave to the female. What was it? Delilah.

"Delilah...something terrible has happened," he let out a small sob. The skrewt paused at his feet

and seemed to look up. It was almost as if it...

"You understand, don't you, Delilah? Oh, Delilah! I am so happy. I...I need someone to talk

to...I..." He sat down. Delilah rested its slimy head on his bare foot. It was listening. It was all

Crabbe needed to know. As soon as he had wiped the last tear from his eye, he began to retell

his memory, and every word he spoke to the eager listening and comprehending Delilah, the

better he felt. With every word, a drop of poison was let out, with ever word a tear was spared.

In the moon's eye, two newly greeted lovers made their lover's pact. A union never heard by

human ears, nor thought by centaur mind. A new beginning in the life of young Vincent, a new

beginning for the skrewt, who had also felt the sting of betrayal when her own lover rejected her

for a passing hedgehog.

Now, everything was different. To different beating hearts escalated in embrace, slime shone in

the night and so did the pyjamas. A new kind of beauty created by those whose love knows no

boundaries.

From the window of a nearby hut, a furry head looked on bemused. The eyes of a bloodhound

was the first to meet such a sight. He barked loudly. With joy? No. With opportunity? Yes. He

bounded out into the night through his Dog-Door and deep into the Forbidden Forest.

Fang had a message to deliver.


	3. 3

The Hogwarts Romance

3.

Hagrid was busy replanting the frail artichoke reserves in the clearing near the Oldest Tree. There was cold night mist clinging to his body. He had taken off his shirt and his muscles could be seen working under the pale moon. Grawp could see it behind the bushes.

Fang raced along the overgrown paths that once led to the Herbology classrooms in 1678, the abnormal sounds of skrewt and human still ringing in his ears. There he saw Hagrid, a true half-giant.

He began to tell him, to tell him like a good dog should, about all the things he had just witnessed. Hagrid had stopped digging and was listening intently to the punctuated barks of his oldest confidant.

"What are you trying to tell me, Fang? What? The pumpkins are flooded again! No, not that...is it...is it my hut...no...the Malfoys...no...it's not...no it can't be...it....NO!"

In the split second of understanding, Hagrid let the spade go, as he let all the emotion in. The love that had been built so stoically, so relentlessly inside his bearded heart could not be fully taken away without the pain. The pain of ripping something that was, for so long, his. His skrewt, his Delilah...his One Love.

He clutched his throbbing head and began to, without knowing whether day was night or night was day, run frantically into the forest. Following the paths that no human feet had touched for centuries, breathing air that had only been touched by the ageing werewolves that, once a month, swung lazily through the trees, he desperately fought for something, some thought, some potion, that could free him from the cold reality of his situation. Crabbe had...oh, that boy, that monstrous boy and his Delilah! It was a myriad of things that clutched and wounded his heart – the betrayal, the thought of others touching her, the loss of love, the heavy words of No More. No More. No More...like a sad echo drifting on some distant wind.

He ran somewhere, he did not know where...and the voice, that ancient arachnid voice greeted him.

"Hagrid," it said from cavernous black depths. "I have heard."

"Yes..." it was all he could say. "Yes..."

As Half-Giant and Spider consummated their old alliance. Grawp watched on, sadly.

He watched his brother entangled in a web of passion. Grawp felt fear for him. Grawp felt his sadness, like a sibling bond, through blood and heart. A fat tear rolled one, two, three onto the fir-cones on the forest floor. Hagrid, he thought, oh what are you doing? I cry for you, he seemed to say, I cry for you, oh my brother.


End file.
